


That Which Lies Between

by BarameinBara



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 12:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarameinBara/pseuds/BarameinBara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke lets Anders go in the end, and Sebastian goes back to Starkhaven to raise his army to hunt the apostate down... only it appears that leaving for years with little contact and few connections leaves you in a terrible place to randomly show up and demand the throne.</p><p>Now he's on the run from Starkhaven royalty that want him taken out and he runs into the only other person in as much trouble as he is, and has to survive with him.</p><p>That person being Anders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Goran’s mocking laughter rang merrily in the gilded hall. He sat proudly on the throne, his hands gripping each armrest as his generous belly shook with his mirth. Sebastian felt his hackles rise, his face flushing crimson.

“Yeh no right to deny me Goran, I am the rightful heir teh the throne. The true Prince of Starkhaven.” 

“And why, Little Cousin, should I listen teh yeh?” He flashed Sebastian a grin that was somehow both lazy and feral. “Yeh’ve no real legs teh stand on and everyone knows it, the useless wastrel princeling, absent from his fair city all these years. Did yeh really think it would be that easy? That yeh could just waltz right in ta my city and demand my throne?” 

“It is my throne Goran...” Sebastian started to protest but with a nod from his cousin a small contingent of guards began to close in on him, stances ready for a fight. 

“The throne of Starkhaven is mine!” Goran shrieked, his face purpling. “And no others! Yeh’ll rot in the dungeons for yer treason, usurper!” 

Sebastian grimaced, he’d never expected it to come to this. In the passionate throes of his rage his path had seemed clear. He’d charged towards his destiny with faith, in the Maker, in himself, in justice. Those illusions where beginning to crack now, under the weight of his cousin’s cruel glare. 

With the speed and skill of much experience Sebastian drew his bow, an arrow nocked half a heartbeat later, and leveled the weapon at his cousin. He meant to threaten, rather than kill. He didn’t feel comfortable shedding more of his family’s blood for the sake of that Maker forsaken chair. 

In an instant the room was still and silent, the dropping of a pin would have rung like a Chantry bell as everyone held their breath. Then just as quickly the room burst with motion once more, the guards emboldened by Sebastian’s obvious hesitation. The three nearest all lunged for him, spinning he loosed his arrow into the eye socket of one but the other two where upon him before he could fully nock another. 

His grandfather’s bow was wrenched from his hands and tossed aside as each guard grasped an arm and tried to force him to his knees. He fought them with all his might, thrashing and writhing, trying to break free. It took two more men to finally subdue him and he was forced to kneel. A massive gloved hand caught hold of the hair at the back of his head, forcing him to look into his cousin’s face, now a perfect picture of smug gloating.

“Yer a right fool, Sebastian. I have to thank ye for making this so easy for me. I would have had teh track yeh down otherwise.” he smiled at Sebastian again, a twisted wicked thing, his eyes glittering with disdain. “Yeh’ll be made an example of of course, I’ll see that yeh suffer for yer arrogance, that all of Starkhaven knows of yer idiocy.”

He waved his hand again and Sebastian was hauled back up to his feet and dragged away. He tried to plead and reason with his captors as he was lead away but it was clear his words fell on deaf ears. None of the guards so much as looked at him. His heart ached as he was lead through his childhood home. It was both familiar and foreign, most of it was exactly the same as when he’d last seen it but with several minor differences that seemed intent on driving home how very unwelcome he was now. 

He could tell by the route they where taking that he was indeed being taken to the dungeons. He’d already had a passing familiarity with them, having spent the occasional night locked up as punishment when his father had had enough of his antics. It had been a very distinctly different situation from the one he now found himself in. 

Rough, uncaring hands tore at his armor, pulling it off and tossing it aside with cringe worthy clattering. Each piece was yanked free with the hasty efficiency of men doing a job they’d rather not be doing but felt obligated to do well. When at last the armor was fully removed and he stood only in woolen trousers and linen shirt he was searched, rather unceremoniously and invasively. 

Thick fingers stroked, patted, and prodded all along his body in a manner that made him uncomfortable and self conscious as a small pile grew at his feet. Several vials of poison, a few potions, a couple tiny daggers, and several lockpicks later the guards felt satisfied they’d found all hidden contraband and without a single word spoken tossed him into a filthy cell. It came complete with musty hay strewn about the floor, reeking chamber-pot, rickety cot, and scratchy threadbare blanket.

He tried once more to plead his case but as before he was paid no heed. A single guard sat upon a much abused chair beside the heavy wooden door that lead to the main palace while all the others took their leave, a couple of nods and muttered mumblings passing between them as they left. Sebastian sighed wearily, dropping to his knees in the center of the dark and filthy cell and began to pray.


	2. Chapter I

He was very quickly set in to a simple, if agonizing, routine. At dawn he would wake to kneel and pray for deliverance until he was collected by grim faced guards and led to a cold torchlit chamber. Here he was stripped naked and strung up by heavy manacles, chained to the the low ceiling, and whipped until he was raw and bleeding. 

When blood and sweat ran down his back and legs in streams, buckets of icy water where poured over him until the water ran clear and he gasped for breath. After this he would be left there, hanging with hands above his head while the sun slowly climbed the sky. When it finally set, and long after a terrible ache had set in to shoulders, wrists, and back, he would be let down and returned to his cell with a crust of bread, cold and lumpy gruel, and a skien of water waiting for him.

His single, and insufficient meal finished, Sebastian would return to his knees and resume his prayers, pleading with Andraste and the Maker to free him. Their continued absence caused him to weep bitterly until an uneasy sleep could claim him. Day after day dawn would always bring more of the same and for two weeks Sebastian languished as such, in his own bloody dungeon, thrown upon the ‘mercies’ of his cousin, when his prayers where finally answered. 

His guard was changed for the first night shift, he could tell by the man’s awkward demeanor that he was a new recruit. At first he paid this no heed, what did it matter if they assigned fresh blood to his watch? It wouldn’t make a difference. But the instant the door was closed and the footsteps of the old guard had faded to nothing his new one spun to him. A jaunty toon whistled from beneath his helmet as he twirled the key ring on a gloved finger and slowly crossed the distance to Sebastian’s cell.

“Well, good to see I’m not the only one with a talent for stepping in it.” He said casually, his voice was damned familiar but Sebastian couldn’t quite place it. “Ready to get out of here mein Princling?” The man taunted, his tone oddly light and joking rather than the cruel jeering he would have expected. 

Sebastian stayed silent, he’d learned quickly that it was far better to do so. He still usually got beaten for it, but it was alway more brief and with less venom than when he tried to fight back. The stranger seemed to understand his reasoning exactly, his head cocked slightly to one side as he observed the broken prince.

“Wow they must have done a number on you, to break your will that fast. Best not to keep you waiting then eh?”

And then, much to Sebastian’s surprise, he bent to fit key to lock and opened his cell. The rusty hinges creaked dreadfully as the door swung slowly open. Sebastian crouched in a wary stance, his hands balled into fists at his side. He knew resisting would likely anger the man and bring greater pain upon himself in the end but he couldn’t stop himself. 

This was not the routine they had set. Why change it now? And why send only the one, obviously unexperienced guard to punish him? It would prove to be a mistake, he would dismantle this foolish man or die trying. He took a cautious step forward, fists raised, but the man seemed nonplussed and held up a hand to stop him.

“Relax Choir Boy, I’m here to help you.” he stated simply.

Choir boy? He paused and studied the other man more closely. He was tall, a tad taller than himself, and slender, his armor ill fitting. Only a small collection of Hawke’s companions called him by that ridiculous nickname. Varric, who was too short and broad to be this man and his voice too deep, Isabela, too female... and Anders...

Then as if to confirm his suspicion the ‘guard’ removed his helm. Revealing that hated face, although it was much changed from what Sebastian had remembered. His messy jaw length hair had been cut to the short proper length expected of any armsman, his scruffy stubble now a full beard, trimmed close about his face in a style that seemed to broaden his narrow jaw. 

Anders looked like a man dragged through the void and back. His skin too pale and sickly looking, great dark spots like bruises rested beneath his eyes, and his cheeks seemed so sharp and hollow that they could be used to cut glass. If he hadn’t known the man for those six long years, and seen his pale pointed face and honey brown eyes in his nightmares he wouldn’t have recognized him. Clearly the past couple of months had been unkind to him. Sebastian could not have cared less.

With a furious snarl he flung himself at the man, tackling him to the ground and straddling his chest. He wrapped both hands about Anders’ slender throat and squeezed, strangling him. Blue light flared from the abomination, cracking his skin and swirling in his eyes, long fingered hands grasped Sebastian’s wrists in a grip so steely he felt the joint in his right wrist pop and dislocate painfully. 

He grit his teeth and endeavored to press harder despite the pain, meeting the glowing blue eyes with his own as he did so. When their eyes met something in the demon’s gaze shifted before the light flickered and died like a candle at the end of it’s wick. He was met with honey brown eyes once more and was surprised by what he found there.

Anders’ gaze was pleading, but not for his life as one would expect. He seemed to be silently begging Sebastian... to continue. His eyes began to glaze and grow distant but rather than continue to struggle his pale fingers slipped from Sebastian’s wrists, dropping listlessly to his side. He tilted his head back and lifted his chin, giving the Starkhaven Prince a better angle with which to choke the life out of him.

Sebastian’s stomach heaved, he was sickened by the man’s compliance, his naked desire for death. His grip slackened with the horror of what they where both doing, the way he hungered for the man’s demise and how the other welcomed it. It was wrong, Maker have mercy this was all so very wrong. Sebastian rose from where he had kneeled above the mage, shuffling backwards as if the other man were a dangerous and wild animal. In a way he supposed he was. 

“Why are yeh here Murderer?” he asked, his voice hoarse and cracked with frequent screaming. 

Anders propped himself up on his elbows and studied Sebastian, his expression sickeningly disappointed. “I came to surrender myself to you.” he whispered, his own voice rough and raspy now. “My victims deserve justice, and Kirkwall does not deserve to face your wrath on my behalf.” 

Sebastian snorted with incredulity. “I dinnae believe yeh, snake, what are yeh really here for? Come teh finish me off?”

“Maker how can you be that dense!?” Anders exclaimed, a low and humorless chuckle rattling from his chest. “If I wanted to ‘finish you off’ would I have restrained Vengeance and allowed you to strangle me half to death?”

Sebastian glared at the insult but remained silent, the mage’s actions certainly hadn’t been that of a man out to kill. His had, he reminded himself cruelly, and he felt slightly nauseous. It was surprisingly difficult to maintain his furious blood thirst when his foe refused to fight back. He had envisioned a glorious hunt to destroy a cruel and dangerous murderer, the starved and broken man that lay before him was not the quarry he had anticipated. 

“Well, you have two options before you.” Anders whispered into the cold silence. “You can finish what you started and kill me now, get your justice, or you can let me carry out the rest of my plan to get you out of this shithole.” 

“How do ye intend to free me?” Sebastian asked, his skepticism returning full force.

“Depressingly simple actually.” Anders said with a shrug, pulling himself to his feet. “This place has the lazy and routine security born of complacency, or simple minded laziness if the rumors about your dear cousin are to be believed.” he said with a snort.

“Either way, the plan is pretty straightforward. There’s an armory a couple of doors down and no guards patrol between here and there, I checked.” he shook his head at this, underwhelmed. “We get you armed and armored like all the other drones and walk out of here on ‘business’” 

“There is no way it could be that easy.” scoffed the prince.

“I shit you not mein Princling.” Anders said with a crooked grin. “These people are consummate dumb-asses, they have got nothing on Kinloch Hold and the Gallows. I’m honestly surprised you haven’t broken yourself free by now”

Sebastian grimaced. “I haven’t had much opportunity, they where thorough in making sure I couldn’t pick the locks and only ever opened my cell with four armed guards present.”

“Well they where bound to do something intelligent sooner or later.” replied the mage with a shrug. “Which reminds me, we best get out of here before someone realizes that ‘third guard from the left’ isn’t who they thought he was.” He trotted up to Sebastian, approaching slowly and holding out his hand. “Here let me see that wrist real quick, I’m sure we’ll both be happier if you’re able to pull a bow properly.”

Sebastian had nearly forgotten his dislocated wrist, it’s dull ache seemed distant and insignificant in the face of all his other pains. With only slight hesitation he held his hand out to the healer, hissing with discomfort when the other man deftly popped it back in to it’s socket. There was a flash of sky blue light and a feeling like noon day sun on his skin and the ache of the wound vanished, the swelling gone. 

Sebastian nodded his thanks, following the mage out of the dungeons when he turned to leave. He was distrustful of the abomination but his need for freedom drove him to ignore his prejudices. He’d gladly suffer even the abomination’s presence if it meant leaving that blighted dungeon far behind him.

They reached the armory the mage had spoken of with as little trouble as he had predicted. Anders perused the racks of weaponry while Sebastian pulled together a suit of armor that would fit him reasonably well. Fortunately for him the armor had been built with Starkhaveners in mind, it would suit him far better than Anders’ own, the man too tall and lanky, his body language obviously not of one accustomed to the heavy leathers. 

“How did yeh, manage teh get in here anyway?” Sebastian finally asked. His curiosity getting the better of him.

“Spent a couple of days sneaking around, studying the floor plan and patrol patterns, knocked out your usual evening guard and stole his stuff.” He tried to shrug as if this where no big deal but his obvious pride ruined the effect. 

Sebastian loosed a low whistle of admiration at the telling in spite of himself. As a roguish type himself he could appreciate the stealth and planning involved. He would never have guessed Anders capable of such a thing however. The mage was many things but subtle had never seemed to be one of them, and he told the man as much.

Anders grinned impishly. “You forget, breaking out of prisons is a life long hobby of mine. I may indeed lack subtlety in most everything but I know how to be sneaky when I need to.”

Sebastian shrugged, conceding the point. If half the mage’s tall tales about escaping the Circle where true than it was easy to believe him capable of the level of stealth required to breach Goran’s lax security. He put Anders’ colorful past from his mind then, focusing instead on pulling on his borrowed armor, trying not to hiss in pain when anything came in contact with the raw and searing wounds covering his back.

He must have failed to remain silent because before longs Anders was stepping up beside him, a shortbow in one hand, a pair of daggers in the other, and a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. His pointed features were etched with thoughtful concern as he lowered his pilfered weapons to the ground. He pushed Sebastian’s hands out of the way and gently tugged the partially donned chest piece free again, lifting the back of the prince’s blood stained shirt as he did so.

“Shit Sebastian!” he exclaimed, “Why didn’t you tell me they’d whipped you half to death!”

Without preamble he pressed his hands gently to the ragged flesh of Sebastian’s back causing him to cry out in anguish at the sudden blaze of agony. There was another flash of light and the warm sensation returned, melting the worst of his pain. Anders muttered under his breath, running his hands gently over the muscled expanse of Sebastian’s back as healing magic poured forth. Sebastian sighed with relief when the mage finally pulled his hands away, he was still sore and the skin still tender but the agony was much reduced

“That’s the best I dare do for now.” Anders muttered apologetically, he was panting slightly and his voice was strained. When he stepped back in to Sebastian’s line of sight he looked near ready to collapse with exhaustion. “I promise when we get a chance to rest I’ll do more, but for now we really need to get going.”

Anders helped him with the armor then, applying the easy gentleness of a healer as piece after piece was carefully put in place. When it was done Sebastian’s skin still burned with pain but he knew it was nothing in comparison to what he would have experienced and he was thankful. He sheathed the various weapons Anders had gotten for him, finding them all adequate, before placing the armor’s matching helm upon his head. He was grateful, as Anders no doubt was as well, for the face concealing nature of the helms but made a mental note to himself to change them if he was ever Prince again. This escape was proving to be ludicrously easy.


	3. Chapter II

Nothing was ever easy. Anders knew that all too well, or he should have at any rate. His entire life had been nothing but one long string of terrible luck. When he had envisioned marching in to Starkhaven to submit himself to Sebastian he had not expected to be fleeing said city with the priestly prince in tow, but that was exactly what they had been forced to do. 

He’d known the Maker had no love for him, and if it was only his own fate on the line he would not have been surprised by the additional chaos, but for Sebastian to be hip deep in his own trouble... And things had been going so well. It had been laughably easy to break in to the royal palace dungeons to retrieve the exiled prince. If only breaking out could have been as easy.

As it was they now found themselves facing down a full squad of heavily armed and armoured royal guards. It seemed that Goran Vael’s men where more observant than they’d seemed, recognizing that Anders’ ill fitting armor and Ferelden accent where out of place, now twelve of them stood against one half dead archer and one half dead mage. Honestly Anders was grateful, if it hadn’t been for Sebastian’s good luck counter balancing his he’d probably be facing a full platoon on his own, or something else equally ridiculous. This way he was only reasonable sure they where doomed.

“How fast do you think you can run, and for how long?” he muttered to Sebastian in a low voice.

“Fairly fast, but not for terrible long.” the prince replied, stringing his borrowed bow.

“Right. I’ll create a path and cause a distraction. I have a bolt hole near the docks, as soon as we’re clear of the Palace proper let’s head that way.”

Beside him Sebastian nodded. “I know a few shortcuts that will likely slow any pursuers, I’ll lead the way.”

Anders did not bother to respond, instead he lifted his hands out before him and gathered his will. He felt his power leap up at his command, a little more tired and shaky than he’d have liked but it was there as always, thrumming through him in a heady flow. A ball of flame coalesced before his outstretched hands and he heard the guards gasp collectively. 

There was a startled shout of 'Maker have mercy, a mage!’ from one of them before the ball went hurtling towards them, exploding into a cascade of heat and noise and pain. It ignited nearly half of the tightly packed guards, at least two of which would likely never reclaim their feet. The other guards all leapt away, trying to get as far away from the dreaded magic as they could, and leaving a perfect path to the blessedly open gate.

Without hesitation they both sprang in to action, dashing towards the gate as swiftly as their legs could carry them, well as fast as Sebastian’s legs could carry him at any rate. Anders’ legs where longer and sadly he was healthier so on this instance the mage could have outstripped him without much difficulty if he’d wished to. He had to force himself to keep pace with the prince when his adrenelanine fueled panic was screaming for him to just charge on ahead, dash any silly notions of protecting the only bloody reason he was even in this blighted city. 

Fortunately Anders’ fireball had proven distraction enough that they had been given a few seconds head start, and tired and weary as they where the reluctant guards in full plate where hard pressed to keep up with the desperate fugitives in leathers. They dashed along the opulent granite paved street, darting between the marble estates of nobles that towered above them, blotting out the night sky above.

Sebastian’s knowledge of the city was proving to be a mighty boon. He lead them down alleys and pathways that Anders would never have spotted on his own and it seemed that their pursuers where nearly as unfamiliar with the winding path as he, each new bend caused their numbers to thin until only two or three still had them in sight. It seemed the prince’s rakish youth had not been misspent after all.

Gradually the city around them began to change, the soaring manors and rich estates steadily became less showy, more practical with tiny manicured lawns that housed well kept animals. Then all of a sudden everything changed, as if another city had somehow traversed the Fade and been lain down next to the neat little homes. 

Gone where the neat little yards and large simple houses, to be replaced with row upon row of ramshackle hovels, the stone used to build them of obviously lower quality. Some where stacked atop each other in an absurdly patchwork manor, each level leaning just a little forward from the one below until the roofs nearly touched in some places, and all of them shared the same careworn and dilapidated look. 

It was here that Sebastian faltered for the first time, clearly less familiar with this seedier part of the city. They had to pause briefly from time to time as he got his bearings and each wasted second brought their pursuers closer. In only a few short minutes the number of men that had managed to keep pace with them had doubled and the distance was closing. Then there was also the fact that they where tiring. After the initial mad dash they’d been able to slow to a more easy loping jog once they started weaving between buildings, it had conserved their energy considerably, but it was still strenuous enough a pace that they where flagging. 

After the seventh pause Anders had had enough of letting Sebastian lead. He had spent a small amount of time in this area of the city gathering information and supplies before coming to the prince’s rescue and he knew reasonably well how to get back to shabby inn he’d been holing up in. He grabbed Sebastian’s bicep and turned him down a side alley, taking point and intentionally walking in a meandering and random route in hopes of throwing off Goran’s irritatingly persistent guard. 

The trip to the inn took perhaps twice as long as it should have but Anders made sure to be thorough in throwing off their pursuers for as long as he could. The instant he was certain they’d lost them for a time he pulled the weary prince to a stop in a dark and dingy alley. He pulled his stolen helmet from his head and tossed it as quietly as he could to the back of the alley before his slender shaky fingers went to work on the straps holding on the rest of his armor.

“Nice as it would be to keep the armor it will draw too much attention while we’re in this part of town, we had best lose it.” he said, panting slightly after their brisk exertions.

Sebastian nodded without comment and began to undo his own armor, his thicker fingers fumbling with the buckles slightly. Anders finished first and wordlessly set about assisting the prince, removing each piece with the same care in which he’d put them on in the first place. Before long they both stood free of the restricting leather, shivering slightly in sweat soaked shirts. 

“Hmm it wouldn’t do to have us turn up bare foot.” Anders muttered as he inspected their finely crafted matching boots. “But these things will still stand out something fierce... Damn it all! We won’t be staying long, I’ll risk it. And you’d best hold on to your weapons, distinguished as they may be we’ll need them.” 

With a shrug he spun on his heels and crept to the mouth of the alley, cautiously checking the street before motioning Sebastian to follow. When the prince drew even with him the tall mage ducked under one of the Starhavener’s muscled arms, throwing one of his own slender appendages about the prince’s waist casually.

“What in the Maker’s name are yeh doin’ Mage?” Sebastian growled, trying to pull away, a look of disgust etched on his fine features.

“Trying to not draw attention to ourselves, so if you’d please stop squirming and start acting drunk it would be nice, thanks.” He muttered, prodding the prince’s ribs for good measure.

With a heavy sigh and much mutinous mutterings Sebastian finally complied, leaning on the mage with his head hung, mouth slightly agape and eyes half lidded. Anders could not suppress his chuckle at the priestly prince’s all too convincing act. Truly it must have been borne from much experience, and Anders found himself wondering at what manner of life the other man must have lead prior to his Chantry vows. 

Slowly they stumbled from the alley, Anders staggering and weaving as he took up a bawdy tune he remembered Oghren bellowing on numerous occasions. He could feel the heat from the prince’s blush at the intensely inappropriate lyrics, or what of them could be discerned from the drunken slur he had started using in what in his mind was a comically accurate impression of his former dwarven comrade. 

The tavern they stumbled in to was chaos, it reeked of ale, piss and vomit in a way that would have made the Hanged Man jealous, and rang with a cacophony of noise from the rowdy sailors and laborers that filled it from wall to wall. Anders had chosen it for this very reason. The inherent disorder and discord of the place was a perfect mask for the two fugitives, no one would pay much heed to two more bedraggled souls amidst this lot. 

With only a nod to the barman Anders steered them through the crowded room and up the stairs in the back, only extricating himself from the prince to fish a key out of his trousers when they paused before a surprisingly sturdy and well crafted door. Sebastian leaned against the doorframe, half out of an attempt to keep up his act and half out of sheer exhaustion, Anders surmised. When he finally managed to work the key into the lock and open the door it took the Prince a few seconds to work up the energy and probably the trust required to stumble through the open doorway. Once he did Anders wasted no time in following him in and barring the door.

“We should be safe enough for a few hours.” said the mage to the prince. “Try and get a little rest if you can. I’m going to get us some food and a few more supplies. I want to leave before dawn.”

He gave the narrow bed a longing look, ushering the prince on to it instead, before turning to leave. However when he made to step away he was pulled short by a firm hand grasping the hem of his filthy tunic. He turned to face his companion, the man’s sapphire eyes a hazy mixture of exhaustion and displeasure, his own expression likely a sad mirror.

“Why Mage, why are yeh in Starkhaven? Why did yeh come for me?” Sebastian asked, his voice thin and reedy but his tone mistrustful.

Anders sighed. “Is this really a good time for this conversation?”

“Yeh said we where safe for a time, I want to know why yeh bothered with this farce. Why we’re here.” 

“I told you already Choir Boy, I came to submit to you, to spare you and everyone else the trouble of hunting me down. I’m sick of running and I don’t deserve my freedom anymore anyway.” he hung his head as he said this, his shoulders slumping. He could feel Vengeance scrabbling in his head at his last remark but he pushed the demon back tiredly. 

Sebastian’s gaze turned hard and cold as ice. “I don’t believe yeh Abomination. You murdered good people in cold blood. Why do the deed if yeh intended to burn for it?”

“Because it needed doing, you have to remove the infection completely before a wound can heal properly. As long as the Chantry’s cancer festered in Kirkwall there would never be justice.” Sebastian made to protest but Anders held up a hand to silence him. 

“All the same, I knew that innocent lives would be destroyed by my actions and those people deserve justice as much as anyone else.” He started to pace, unable to contain the nervous energy that was now building in his chest. “Nothing I do can make up for what happened but if my death can soothe some of the ache then I will gladly pay that price.”

“I left for Starkhaven almost as soon as the battle for Kirkwall was over. I even thought to catch up to you if I could but... Vengeance did not agree with my desire to submit. He felt that what we did was righteous, that the price was worth it and we would better serve the cause alive.” Anders ran his fingers through his hair, startled as always at it’s lack of length.

“I kept blacking out, I would loose all memory of my actions for hours at a time and when I came to I would be miles off course.” his throat tightened at the admission, the loss of time had been terrifying. “Vengeance, it seemed, was taking me over when my will slipped and steering me away. I’ve barely slept since realizing what was happening, forcefully maintaining my grip on my mind and fighting Vengeance every second of every day. On the bright side though,” he added with a wan smile “When I finally made it to the city he finally seemed to accept the inevitable, I’ve hardly heard a thing from him in days, aside from our earlier mishap.”

“Why even come to me? Surely yeh could have turned yerself in in Kirkwall and spared the journey?” Sebastian asked.

Anders shrugged. ”I felt I owed it to you, to let you be the one to end me. After all it was your home I destroyed, your family I killed. If anyone had a right to exact vengeance from me it was you, but when I got here and heard what had become of you...”

The fire in Sebastian‘s eyes blazed at Anders‘ admission but when he spoke his tone was level and even. “Why not leave then? Why stay and break me free. It would have been easier to leave me teh rot and have yer freedom.”

Anders shook his head vigorously. “I couldn’t walk away. It wouldn’t have been right, even Justice agreed. You wouldn’t have even been in that mess if it weren’t for me.”

He paused then and eyed the Prince sitting on the edge of the bed. “It just occurred to me, you swore to Hawke that you would kill me, ‘show me what true justice is’. You literally had me in your grasp and let me go. Why?”

Sebastian grimaced, he rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together almost as if praying, pressing his forehead against his thumbs. “I will not deny that I hungered for yer blood, mage. But I couldn’a follow through with the deed. Answering murder with more of the same... I didn’a wish to stoop to yer level.”

Anders flinched as if slapped, that remark stung, but he knew he deserved it and so chose not to argue. “So what do you intend to do then?” he asked the prince. “You’re not in any position to exact any official justice yourself. Will you have me turn myself in?”

Sebastian’s brows raised in confusion, his eyes widened with surprise. “After all this, yeh still intend to surrender to me?”

“Andraste’s arse Sebastian.” Anders growled with exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. “I’ve told you, what? Three times now that I’m here to submit to you? Do you need it in writing or something?”

“It’s that easy then is it? Yeh turn up out of nowhere, free me from prison, then surrender your will teh mine? Prisoner to a fugitive Prince?” Sebastian met his gaze then, for the first time since entering the inn, his eyes searching.

“Yes, it’s that easy. You should know full well that I never do anything half arsed.” Anders said with a grim and humorless chuckle. “I am yours to do with what you will, mein Princling.”

Sebastian finally allowed himself to relax a little at that statement, falling back on to the bed with his feet still on the floor, resting his head on an upraised arm. “Then how do yeh see things progressing from here? Yer awfully well prepared for survival for a man intending teh die.” he replied, his head rolling to the side to allow his gaze to drift to the twin travel packs resting by the door.

“Well I wasn’t sure what your reaction to seeing me would be.” Anders said with a shrug, continuing to pace, but more slowly. “Honestly, I expected you to kill me outright, but I took the liberty of ensuring we’d be able to make it to Ansburg on the off chance you didn’t.”

“Why Ansburg?” Sebastian‘s nose wrinkled in an expression of mild distaste that Anders would have found endearing if it hadn‘t been directed at him almost every time he spoke for the last four years. 

“Because, backwater as it may be, it’s the only major settlement between here and the ocean port at Wycome. I have... acquaintances in very high places in Ferelden that could shelter you at worst, and help you reclaim your throne at best.” Sebastian lifted his head to peer at him curiously at this but said nothing. “I figured we’d travel East along the Minanter, resupply in Ansburg then push on to Wycome and take ship to Amaranthine.”

“And if I decide teh turn yeh in instead?” asked the Prince levelly with all the feeling of one asking after the weather, his head falling to rest on his arm once more.

“Then you can have what supplies I’ve gathered and do what you will,” Anders replied, his tone equally even and uncaring. “but I do recommend heading to Ferelden. King Alistair and the Warden Commander are good men, they won’t hesitate to help you if you ask for it.” 

Sebastian snorted with unrestrained incredulity. “The King of bloody Ferelden is one of yer ‘acquaintances’?” 

Anders waved a hand as if to push the question aside but answered it anyway. “I don’t know him well and I doubt he even knows my name, I’ve really only met him a handful of times, but I am quite familiar with the Warden Commander and he is close to the King.” 

Sebastian did not respond at first, clearly lost in thought as he stared up at the smoke stained ceiling. After a time he gave a weary sigh, his eyes sliding closed. “Teh Ansburg we go then.” he muttered softly, so quiet Anders nearly didn’t hear him.

“In that case I had best finish up my preparations.” he ceased his slow pacing and went to the door, unlocking it and starting to step outside before turning back to the prince. “You get some rest mein Princling, we’ll be leaving in a few hours.” he said, but he needn’t have bothered. Sebastian was already unconscious, laying sprawled on the bed with his knees still bent over the edge and his feet on the ground. 

Anders could not stop himself from studying the sleeping prince. His hair was longer and unkempt, the scruffy beginnings of a beard lining his jaw and chin, his facial features sharper and more pronounced with malnutrition. He smiled to himself at the sight, Sebastian almost looked like a red-headed version of himself from a month ago, altho he was certain that he had never been that handsome. It was utterly unfair how beautiful he looked, even starved, half dead, and filthy, with his full lips parted as he breathed evenly, and long auburn eyelashes resting on cheeks that had paled during the weeks without sunlight. 

Anders shook his head as he turned to leave, trying to shut the image of the princely priest from his mind. Why must Thedas’ most handsome man also be it’s most irritating? He knew this journey was going to be the death of him, but he had never anticipated just how much he would have to suffer first.


End file.
